


Eyes Turned Skyward

by athena_crikey



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: AU, And finds it again, First Kiss, Gon loses his nen, Hisoka doling out favours like a sugar daddy, I guess maybe, M/M, not ready for the death match yet, wing!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:46:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24259876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athena_crikey/pseuds/athena_crikey
Summary: From Hisoka’s back wide, red wings unfurl. They’re the crimson colour of heart’s blood, feathers thick and glossy and rustling. He beats them and rises briefly from the floor. “Sadly there isn’t really room to make a decent demonstration.”
Relationships: Gon Freecs/Hisoka
Comments: 9
Kudos: 239





	Eyes Turned Skyward

Weirdly, it’s Hisoka who teaches him. Weird because Hisoka is anything but a mentor, is in fact the opposite of mentorship: cunning and cruelty wrapped up in one long-legged, red-haired package. Weird because until then Hisoka has been the kind of person to collect secrets, not divulge them. 

It happens after the loss in Heaven’s Arena, an unsatisfying defeat that tastes of blood and bile. Killua blames it on the ref, but Gon can see the relief in his eyes and it’s a painful reminder of the truth: he was badly outmatched by Hisoka. 

Wing-sensei and Zushi are waiting down below; Killua, by his side, is ready to leave. They’ve done what they came for, even if it leaves a bitter taste in Gon’s mouth. But he’s not finished here, isn’t satisfied. 

“I’ll be down in a minute,” he tells Killua. “I’ve just got to get my stuff from my room. Meet you on the first floor.”

Gon’s not a liar like Hisoka – it’s not that he’s scrupulously honest, it’s just that he’s never really seen the point of lies. But he stretches the truth now like hot-pink Bungee Gum, pulls it out and twists it. Killua, who trusts no one but Gon, is taken in. 

“You didn’t bring it with you?” He snorts. “Okay, fine. I’ll see you in a minute.”

“Yeah,” agrees Gon. They part ways and he heads back towards his room. 

But it’s not his room he goes to. 

Hisoka is easy to find. His bloodlust still hangs in the air like humidity – stifling, suffocating. Gon uses his nen to avoid being affected too badly, but he still has to stiffen his joints to keep from shaking. His body is beaten and bruised, his clothes dirty and blood-stained; right now, he’s weak. But he’s not ready to leave without seeing Hisoka again. That feels like true defeat, like an unsurmountable loss. If he can’t stare the magician in the eye and promise a rematch, he’ll be ruled by the same fear he felt in the arena. 

Hisoka’s door is closed, aura leaking out the bottom like blood from a recent kill. Gon raises his hand to knock, but he’s pre-empted by a voice from within: “Come in.”

Swallowing, body tense, Gon opens the door and steps inside. Hisoka’s room is much like Gon’s; plainly appointed with windows looking out over the twilight city. His bed is a double, the sheets mussed. But Hisoka is standing by the windows, staring into the darkness beyond. 

“A dangerous time to choose for a visit,” he says softly, voice throbbing. “My hunger was less than sated by our match.”

“I’ll do better next time,” says Gon stiffly, hands fisted. His legs are spread wide in a strong stance, his shoulders flung open ready to counter a blow. Hisoka looks over his shoulder, golden eyes shining in the artificial light.

“I’m sure,” he agrees. “You don’t like accepting favours, do you Gon?”

“No. Not from strangers.”

“Oh? Am I a stranger then?” Hisoka turns, his long, fine hands on his hips. They’re not the hands of a killer but of a craftsman, an artist. Gon can imagine them playing a beautiful instrument, or drawing delicate lines on canvas. But the clawed tips, those are all murder and fury. 

“You’re not a friend,” he says, and that feels strange to say because before the Hunter Exam Gon had never met anyone who wasn’t a friend. But Illumi certainly isn’t, and Hisoka… Hisoka is hard to place.

“Perhaps an enemy?” purrs Hisoka, eyes narrowing in pleasure. 

“Maybe. I’ll figure it out sooner or later.”

“Hmm. Very promising. I have high hopes of you, Gon. And to ensure we’ll meet again, I propose to do you a favour.”

Gon stiffens. This isn’t at all what he had expected from the magician. He had imagined bloody violence, or a choking aura. Not a _favour._

“Use your _Gyo_ ,” says Hisoka. Gon, raising his arms to fend off an attack, does. But what he sees isn’t aggression. 

It’s beauty. 

From Hisoka’s back wide, red wings unfurl. They’re the crimson colour of heart’s blood, feathers thick and glossy and rustling. He beats them and rises briefly from the floor. “Sadly there isn’t really room to make a decent demonstration.”

“What – what is this?”

Hisoka smiles thinly, his lips like the curve of a blade. “It’s called _Ba_ , a nen ability. All nen users may learn it, although not all do. Without significant expenditure of effort it can be difficult to control. But very rewarding to those who value their freedom. Now that you’ve seen it, you should be able to learn it.” He blinks and the red wings disappear, fading into nothingness. 

“You think I owe you for teaching it to me?” demands Gon, eyes hard. 

The magician shrugs lithely, like a panther. “What you believe is up to you. But since you ask me, I think you will learn to use _Ba_. And I think you will choose to repay me for showing it to you. The time and place I leave up to you.” His lips are shining a soft petal pink. His makeup is still smeared from the fight, only half a teardrop remaining on his left cheek, the skin scraped and swelling. And yet he’s still lovely in the way that a sunny mid-winter’s day is: icy death waiting in an enticing world of crisp clarity. 

“I’ll see you again,” promises Gon. “And if I owe you anything, I’ll repay you in full!”

“I look forward to it,” replies Hisoka. As Gon leaves he raises his hand and waves with just his fingers, lips curled upwards. All humour and hunger.

  
***

Gon tells Killua about it of course – he may stretch the truth on occasion, but he’s terrible at keeping secrets. Killua bawls him out for going to see Hisoka alone – “What if he’d chewed you up into little bits and spat you out?” – but is intrigued by the idea of nen wings.

By this point they’ve left Wing-sensei and Zushi behind, and have only each other for company and training. Killua wants to focus on improving their ability to use _Hatsu_ , but Gon can’t get the idea of flight out of his mind. 

It’s hard. He dissects his memory of Hisoka’s wings, of the magician’s use of nen, over and over, to little effect. Tries to pour his own nen into the right shape time and time again and only manages to bleed out his aura. But like all training, there’s a knack to it. The more he practices, the more he starts to feel the right shape floating just out of reach. The more he stretches for it, sweating and staggering, the closer he comes until finally, _finally_ , he grasps it. 

His nen follows the shape in his mind and big, thick forest-green wings rip up from his back. Killua, practicing _Zetsu_ nearby, gives a shout and falls over. Gon reaches out hesitantly and touches one of the wings; it’s soft and feathery, a slick almost dusty feeling. He can feel new muscles stretching in his back, shivering as the wings rise and fall slightly with his breaths. 

“Gon!” Killua gets up and runs over, reaching out and burying his hands in Gon’s feathers. It feels nice; feels comfortable and gentle. “Wow, you really did it!”

They’re training on Whale Island in a forest clearing a little way from Aunt Mito’s house. Gon looks up at the trees reaching towards the sky and stretches his muscles. The wings spread open wide and then begin to beat. He rises unsteadily into the air, one foot, two feet, higher. He rises in fits and starts, not with the smooth control Hisoka had displayed, but it’s unquestionable: he’s flying. 

_He’s flying!_ Gon lets out a whoop and shoots up into the air, wings propelling him forward. He twists and drags through the air, crashing through tree branches and kicking against the earth before finding his way back into the blue sky. It’s amazing, exhilarating. It’s like nothing he’s ever done before, nothing he’s ever even imagined.

  
***

His nen is exhausted quickly that first time and he tumbles back to earth. But from then on all he wants to do is learn to fly properly. As Killua begins trying to copy him, Gon strengthens his stamina and his performance in the air.

Two days later Killua produces grey-blue wings that shine like silver in the air. Then it’s a simple race to perfect their skills, laughing and shouting as they chase the other like toddlers learning to walk. Killua has finer control but Gon has greater power, rocketing upwards above the tree tops and yodelling: _Ya-hoo!_

At night they return to Aunt Mito’s house completely exhausted, vacuuming up dinner and then trudging up the stairs to tumble into bed where they fall asleep instantly. 

Sometimes though, Gon wakes in the middle of the night, the room painted in hues of navy by the moon peeking through the curtains. And, staring at the ceiling and thinking of the starry sky beyond he can’t help but wonder how he’ll ever be able to repay Hisoka for this gift.

  
***

_Ba_ isn’t practical. It’s difficult to use in combat, the wings too heavy and sluggish to react to quick blows, and is too energy-draining to be used for long-distance travel. But of all the abilities Gon has learned, it’s by far the most fun. He lives for the days he can devote to strengthening his wings, for slicing up through the sky until he reaches the clouds above, for diving down like a falcon towards the curved earth below. Flight becomes his relaxation, his reward for a long hard day of training.

Becomes a part of himself, just as important to him as hands or teeth or bone. 

Having spent the whole of his life on the ground until now he becomes a creature of the sky. He’s always observed birds and bugs, the wind and the clouds and the stars. Now he comes to know them from another angle, comes to understand the subtle ways in which the birds shift their wings to ride updrafts and skew their weight to change their angle of flight. He learns how to angle the tips of his wings to slow himself and curve them to speed up, how to do a barrel role without stalling out, how to take off and land gracefully. He learns which clouds are thick with moisture and which are just a light brush of droplets, and what winds he can weather. 

Killua doesn’t get it. To him, flying was fun for a while, but isn’t essential to their task. Killua’s very focused, Gon knows, and sometimes not good at having fun. He thinks too hard about things, lives too much in his own head. On Whale Island he had relaxed, but now they travel to York New in search of a copy of Greed Island and he’s back in Mission Mode. Flying is fun, but impractical, and so having learned it he abandons it.

Gon thinks he could no more forget about it than he could forget how to breathe.

  
***

It’s not that Gon forgets about Hisoka’s favour. But when he meets the magician next on Greed Island, he’s got a lot going on. He’s on a mission to find Ging, and has to clear the island, and get stronger, and defeat the Bomber, and find the Strip of Beach card.

And, when they encounter Hisoka, the magician is buck-naked in a hot spring, and most of Gon’s thoughts drain right out of his brain. All he can do is stare gob-smacked at the magician’s very built body. 

Gon knows about attraction – knows that men and women fall in love and that part of that is an unspoken ache for the other’s body, the way a female in heat pines for a male. He even knows that sometimes men feel that for other men, or women for women. But he’s never felt it for anyone, and he doesn’t feel it now. 

What he feels is partial respect for Hisoka’s very fine figure, and partial terror at the magician’s roiling bloody nen. He can’t stop staring, at the buff pecs, the chiseled abs, the swell of his hips and lower, the – Gon looks away and sees Biscuit drooling. 

Eventually Hisoka comes out and puts his clothes back on, and things retake a semblance of normalcy. He agrees to come with them to AiAi to search for strong players to take on Razor and his pirates and they set out on that errand. 

It’s on the way to AiAi that Gon remembers about _Ba_ , about the favour he owes Hisoka. It’s hard to forget the magician, currently walking behind him and Killua, his gaze boring into their backs. 

He doesn’t have time now to fight Hisoka, and even if he did he’s pretty sure with what he’s learned recently that if they did fight they would seriously hurt each other. And if they’re hurt, they can’t win against Razor. But… Hisoka has given him something wonderful, something amazing. How can he not pay him back?

Gon sighs miserably; Killua takes it for disgust with Hisoka’s heavy-lidded gaze and forces the magician to walk up front.

  
***

In the end AiAi is a wash-out but they recruit Tsezguerra and his team and start practicing for a rematch with Razor. They sleep in a hotel in Soufrabi and train in the woods on the outskirts of the town.

In the evenings after training, Gon takes to the sky. He does it surreptitiously; he’s never seen anyone other than Killua and Hisoka fly, and has no idea whether Hisoka’s statement that any nen user can use _Ba_ is true or not. Killua makes him promise to stay in the air while he’s out, where he will be safe from the Bomber. Gon has no problem agreeing; all he wants to do is soar. 

He rips through the air, turning somersaults and barrel roles and swooping and diving exuberantly, taking joy from there mere fact of flight. His wings have grown strong, can keep him in the air for hours at a time now, the dark green feathers thick and glossy under moonlight. 

It’s the third night since they’ve arrived at Soufrabi and Gon is drifting over a field of wildflowers with a sweet, delicate smell. After the grime and exhaust of York New it’s wonderful to be out in nature, to smell the green smell of plants and leaf mould and wet earth. 

He’s just drifting closer to the ground to admire the flowers when he feels someone watching him. There’s no spike of nen, no aura. But he can feel eyes on him. He looks up and spots a figure sitting perched atop a tree in front of the rising moon. 

In the silvery light, his wings are blood red. Hisoka.

Gon beats his wings slowly, rising to meet the magician. He’s perched in the upper branches of an immense black pine, its sprigs of needles like clouds. He watches Gon approach with shining eyes, his skin pale in the moonlight. Gon alights on a branch beside his, the tree shifting slightly with his weight. 

“You’ve grown,” says Hisoka, and Gon knows he doesn’t mean in height. “I see you’ve made good use of my favour.”

“It’s not very useful,” says Gon, but he can’t bring himself to lie. Not about this gift. “But… I really love it. I love flying. It’s amazing.”

“It is, isn’t it? I agree, impractical but highly delightful. Much like magic.” He produces a pack of cards from nowhere, shuffling them absently between his hands. 

“I can’t repay you,” blurts out Gon, staring at Hisoka’s cards – his weapons. “Not right now. I want to! But… if we fight now we won’t be able to defeat Razor.”

“Hmm.” Hisoka looks at him, eyes sharp. “A quandary to be sure. But you know, I am enjoying myself at the moment. You’ve alleviated my boredom. For now, that’s enough.” The cards disappear with a wave of his hand. “Tell me, Gon. What do you like best about flying?”

Gon doesn’t even have to think about it. “It’s fun!”

Hisoka blinks, then smiles. “A very honest answer. You really are quite a simple boy, aren’t you? In this complicated world, that’s a rarity.”

“You’re simple too, Hisoka,” says Gon. 

The magician raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Gon nods. “Un. You do exactly what you want to do. Other people worry about the future, and planning things out, and stuff like that. I don’t think you worry about any of those things.”

“I suppose I’m selfish,” he admits with an easy-going smile, hands spread. “Quite frankly, few people have ever seemed as important to me as I am. Life is brief, Gon, and entirely what we make of it. If you bend to the will of others, you will lose your way.”

Gon’s wings ruffle in the breeze, feathers rustling briefly. “You don’t have many friends, do you?” he says.

“Certainly not nearly as many as you seem to,” replies Hisoka. And then, crossing his legs, “In fact, I have none. There are those who are useful to me, and those to whom I am of use. That’s all.” He shrugs, unbothered. His bloody wings shift, catching the moonlight in a crimson streak. 

“If you had some friends, you’d understand that compromise can make you both stronger.”

The magician draws a razor-sharp fingernail across his mouth. “Not in my experience,” he says. 

Gon looks at him. “Have you ever compromised?”

Hisoka’s lips curl upwards. “Oh Gon. You _are_ sweet.” He sighs. “If I said never, would you believe me?”

Gon nods. “But I think you should try it. How about this: You set aside repayment for teaching me _Ba_ for now, and I’ll keep you entertained.”

“You offer me what I’ve already agreed to?” asks Hisoka curiously. 

“This time, I offer it as a friend!” says Gon. 

“Hmm.” The magician stretches his legs, his slippered feet bobbing up and down. “So you’ve decided how I fit into your world, have you? Is friendship not perhaps simply the easiest answer?”

“I don’t know if it’s the easiest answer. It’s just the one I want,” says Gon, honestly. He rests his hands on the pine bough and rubs his palms over the rough bark, feels the tree’s hoary hide. It’s a young, strong tree, and even with two people perched atop it it doesn’t bend in the breeze. 

Hisoka stares at him. “You want to be my friend?”

Gon nods. “Un! Because at first I was scared of you, and really I still am, but you’re so strong and I want to get stronger too. And because you’re helping us, and I want to appreciate that. And because I think it must be lonely, not having any friends.”

For a moment, Hisoka doesn’t move. Then he laughs, a low chuckle like the babbling of a brook. “Kindness,” says Hisoka. “I cannot say that I have ever done anything to deserve it from anyone.”

“You taught me _Ba_ ,” replies Gon. 

“And for such a simple thing, you would give your friendship?”

“It’s not simple! It’s incredible. It’s the thing I love best about nen.”

Hisoka smiles. “Then I suppose I shall accept your friendship. For now.”

  
***

With Hisoka’s help they defeat Razor. The magician wins them the final victory when Gon faints on the court, stepping in and using his abilities to win the match the way Gon wanted rather than through a simple default. Gon wonders if it’s his repayment for the gift of his friendship, but he knows better than to ask.

After that they go their separate ways, Killua sighing in relief when Hisoka disappears from the landscape. 

Gon feels just a little emptiness in his chest.

  
***

After Greed Island comes the madness and terror of the Chimera Ants. The tragedy of Kite’s torture, and then the absolute horror of his death. Gon makes a contract and beats Pitou to ashes using his life’s store of nen.

And then there is nothing but darkness.

  
***

When he wakes up, he knows immediately that it’s gone. Knows that a fundamental part of him is missing, vanished.

But he doesn’t say anything because Biscuit is there crying by his bedside, and Morel and Knov and Knuckles and a whole group of people he’s met over the past two years are crowding in behind them, and maybe this is normal – maybe it’s just part of the cure.

Morel takes him to see Leorio and Ging, and Gon doesn’t say anything about it then either because this is a time of joy, a time of reunions and first encounters and he wants to give himself over completely to happiness and celebration.

After he meets Killua and his sister Alluka, and they’re so happy to see him, so relieved that he can’t burden their meeting with his fears. And then he learns it was Alluka who healed him, Alluka who can grant wishes, and he’s glad he didn’t say anything because he already owes her much too much. 

And then there is Ging. Ging, atop the world tree, Ging who he’s been chasing since he met Kite and learned he was alive. Ging who is everything he wants to be and now maybe never will. 

He looks up at this man, this legend, _his father_ , and forces a smile. “It’s gone. My nen.” 

He can’t fight with Ja-Janken. Can’t see his enemies’ power or read Biscuit’s hidden notes. 

Can’t fly.

Ging nods. “I know. So what are you going to do about it?” 

Gon looks down at the earth so far below. At the limitless power and possibilities there. “Get it back,” he says.

  
***

Gon visits doctors and healers and shamans. Tries medicine and healing nen and acupuncture. Makes pilgrimages to distant temples and meets with lost civilizations. Has adventure after adventure.

But none of it brings back his nen. It’s gone, and every time he watches the birds swoop through the sky he is reminded what he lost. 

He has friends, has joy and excitement and entertainment. But when he looks at the sky, his heart still feels nothing but emptiness.

  
***

_Four Years Later_

At seventeen Gon makes a tour of the land near Lukso province, trying to understand more about Kurapika. The Blacklist Hunter has been distant for years, closing his heart away and refusing to let anyone in. Gon doesn’t really think that he will find anything here that would help, but he has to try. 

The trees are immense, their trunks large enough that it would take ten people linking arms to encircle them, their tips stretching high towards the clouds. Their bark is a magnificent red colour, their needles forest green. Gon presses his ear to a tree and can almost hear the sound of its life, the flowing of its energy and the slow, languorous trickle of its thoughts. 

He’s not expecting to meet anyone here. He’s in the middle of nowhere, and since the murder of the Kurta clan almost two decades ago the forest has been devoid of human life. So when he hears someone call his name, he nearly falls on his ass. 

“Gon!”

Gon swivels and watches as, silent as a hunting cat, Hisoka makes his way through the underbrush. The magician doesn’t seem to have aged in the intervening years, his face still pristinely pale and painted, his lips thin, his eyes gleaming gold. 

Gon hasn’t seen him since Greed Island. Since his decision to make a friend of the magician. He sees things in Hisoka now that he had been blind to as a child – sees the way his hips move seductively, sees the light application of eyeliner to accentuate his eyes, sees the lascivious pleasure in the curve of his mouth. 

Gon swallows. 

“An unexpected meeting,” purrs Hisoka, stepping up to him. Despite Gon’s growth spurt he’s still taller, his shoulders broader than Gon’s. “But a pleasant one, I think.”

Gon frowns, puzzled. “Were you looking for me?” 

“ _Unexpected_ , I said,” repeats Hisoka. “No, I came for something else entirely.”

“Oh. What?”

“Rumours always abound regarding the Kurta. Recently there have been whispers that there are survivors living in deepest Lukso. I was asked to verify them.”

Gon thinks of Hisoka as belonging in the city against a backdrop of sparkling skyscrapers. His clothes, his manners are sophisticated, urbane, while his aura is all back alley violence. Or at least, it was.

Hisoka squints at him. “Where’s your nen, sweet Gon?” he asks, reaching out and catching Gon under the chin with a curled finger, tilting Gon’s head from side to side and watching him closely. 

“You haven’t heard?” Gon says, mouth dry. Hisoka’s eyes narrow.

“Heard what?”

“It’s gone. I lost it.”

“It’s not a wallet to be misplaced,” replies Hisoka, frowning and lowering his hand. 

“You really don’t know?”

Hisoka looks down at him. “Perhaps you had better tell me.”

  
***

They sit on the soft grass under one of the redwoods and Gon tells the whole story. It’s been a while – been years – since he told it all.

“I was going to force Pitou to heal Kite, no matter what. And he went along with it, pretended he would. But when we got there… when we got to Kite… he told me the truth. Kite was dead. He had been all along, and it was nothing but his corpse that was left. A sad, pathetic puppet of him that had been stitched together over and over, made to fight endlessly so the ants could tear him to pieces again and again.” Gon’s fist twitches. Hisoka says nothing. “I just lost it. Even now, I don’t really remember much about it. But I made a contract. A contract that gave me all the nen I would ever have in this life, right then and there. And I used it to burn Pitou to ashes.” 

He looks up at Hisoka. “And now it’s gone. I’ll never be able to fight nen users again. I’ll never be able to get strong enough to beat you. And… I’ll never fly again.” He bites his lip, bites it so hard he tastes blood, to keep his voice from wavering. 

“I know I never paid you back. Now I don’t think I’ll ever be able to. If there’s anything I can do, I’ll do it.”

Hisoka weaves his fingers together and stretches out his arms, cracking his knuckles. “Tell me. What was the exact wording of the contract,” he says.

Gon looks at him; he’s inscrutable, eyes sharp and mouth a thin line that gives away nothing. 

“To give me all the nen I would have in this lifetime, until I defeated Pitou,” he replies. “Why?”

Hisoka’s lips curl upwards. “How would you like to make a compromise?” he asks. 

Gon blinks. “What do you mean?”

“I’ll give you your nen back. In exchange, I get to end this life of yours.”

He seems to be entirely serious. Gon frowns, brows knitting together. “I don’t understand. You mean you’ll give me my nen back and then you’ll kill me? That doesn’t sound like a good deal.”

Hisoka waves a finger. “No, no. I will end your life to give you back your nen. Consider: Your contract stated that it was your nen from this lifetime that would be used up. But if you die and then come back to life, it’s no longer the same life. Correct?”

“Umm…” Gon tries to think about it. Digs his fingers into his hair, pulling at it. “Umm…”

Hisoka chuckles. “It’s not so complicated. I kill you, then I use Bungee Gum to start your heart again. If the contract is true to its word, you should be able to regain your nen.”

Gon looks up at him. “You think so?”

“Well, we can’t know until we try. Of course, whether your heart starts again or not is entirely up to you. You may very well simply die. Is it worth the risk?”

Gon thinks about it. About Aunt Mito. About his friends. About the adventures he’s had in the past year. 

About the immense hole in his heart, the crippling loss, the empty sky. 

He nods. “Yes.”

Hisoka smiles. “I was hoping you would say that.” He reaches out and brushes his fingers across Gon’s cheek; Gon feels himself growing hot, heart speeding. There’s no bloodlust in the air, no threat of violence. He doesn’t know why he suddenly feels excited. “I’ve always wanted to see the light fade from your beautiful eyes,” murmurs Hisoka. 

“So what now?” asks Gon, practically, before Hisoka can get sentimental in an entirely creepy way. 

“Now I smother you to death,” replies Hisoka easily. “I would so like to see you all beaten and bloody, but I suppose that’s not the point. That can come later.” He shifts to sit right beside Gon, his body pressed up against Gon’s side. Gon can feel the heat of him, can smell his scent: bubble gum and blood. “Mmm, ready?” he asks, passing an arm around Gon and catching his arm in a strong grip. 

Gon’s heart is hammering, his chest tight. Hisoka is a liar, he knows, may be lying now. May have no intention of starting his heart again. May simply smother the life out of Gon and leave him to rot where he’ll never be found. He’s trusting the magician, who is inherently untrustworthy. 

Fear spikes in his veins, hot and potent as gasoline, ready to flame up. But his death wouldn’t gain Hisoka much; the magician has always craved the opportunity to best him in a fight. This is a pathetic death in comparison. 

That’s all he has to hold on to. All he can hope. 

To his surprise Hisoka leans in and presses a kiss to his lips, his tongue licking out against Gon’s mouth. “For luck,” he murmurs, smiling wickedly. Then his hand is covering Gon’s nose and mouth, pressing down firmly. 

For a few minutes Gon thinks he will be able to do this. Will be able to calmly step beyond the veil. Then as his air begins to run out his body starts to fight his mind. He holds it back at first but the instinct to live is too strong, forces him to thrash and flail against Hisoka, panic flooding through him. He can’t breathe – can’t breathe – _can’t breathe!_ – he is fighting, he is failing, he is dying… 

Hisoka holds him down, those golden eyes dancing above him, smiling ecstatically as Gon struggles for breath. 

Gon’s sight grows dim, the sounds of the forest fading. His body is twitching, no longer fighting frantically. An immense wave is curling over him, casting a dark shadow over the world, and when it falls there will be nothing. 

“Goodbye, Gon,” coos a soft voice.

Darkness.

  
***

The world splits apart, blackness rending to reveal white light. Gon bursts upwards, gasping, as his heart slams into his chest.

“Welcome back,” says Hisoka. 

For a moment all Gon can do is breathe. His lungs burn and his chest aches. His mind is confused, fuzzy. Hisoka is sitting beside him, staring down at him with amused eyes. 

“I’ve seen plenty of deaths in my time, but never a birth,” muses the magician. “It was rather wondrous.”

Gon’s hand is pressed to his chest, feeling the strong, aching beats of his heart. “Nnh – hurts a lot,” he says. 

Hisoka grins. “Even better.”

But in fact, already the pain is fading, his head growing clearer. Gon sits up and feels warmth, strength, familiarity.

Feels his nen.

It pours out of him into _Ren_ , flaring around him. It’s brilliant, exhilarating, stupefying. He feels _alive_ in a way he hasn’t for years, feels amazing. As Hisoka watches he stands and funnels his nen into his back. Dark green wings unfurl and he launches himself into the air with a glorious cry, sweeping and swerving through the forest and then up above the trees. 

It’s so much better than he remembered it. In that moment he falls in love with flight all over again, with the freedom, the elation, the feeling of the wind in his feathers. 

“ _Hisoka!_ ” he shouts, circling high above. “ _Thank you! Thank you!_ ”

There’s a sharp, dangerous burst of nen from the ground and then Hisoka is soaring up after him, scarlet wings splendid in the afternoon sun. 

Where Gon’s flying is all energy and enthusiasm, Hisoka’s is all grace and beauty. He beats his wings with precision, a falcon to Gon’s eagle. He’s always had perfect control of his nen, the exactness of a surgeon – or a sniper. 

He alights at the top of one of the redwoods and watches Gon wheel through the air, until his nen is exhausted and he has to come in to land or risk falling out of the sky. 

“You’re pleased,” says Hisoka, wings pulled in tight behind him, red feathers fluttering in the breeze.

“I felt so _empty_ before. Like a cantaloupe with the inside scooped out, like I’d been gutted and stuffed with sawdust. And every day I’d think of all the things I still had, and it was _never enough_. You made me fall in love with my nen, Hisoka. And when it was gone, you broke me.”

“Oh _Gon_ ,” purrs the magician, tone brimming with ecstasy. “What kind words. But if I did break you, I’ve also just put you back together.”

Gon nods. “I know. I’m not mad. But I don’t think I can repay you right now. I’m real rusty.”

“Then perhaps just something to tide me over.”

Gon blinks. “Like what?”

Hisoka slips from his branch and catches himself expertly with his wings, rising to eye level with Gon. He reaches out and runs his fingers over the line of Gon’s jaw; although the pads of his fingers are warm, they burn like dry ice. Gon shivers. 

“Kiss me,” orders the magician, and Gon knows he has no choice but to obey. Not on pain of harm, or even of death, but simply because he owes Hisoka, and he would set himself alight sooner than renege on a promise. 

He opens his mouth and presses his lips to Hisoka. His lips are warm and soft, as they were in the moments before his death. But now they slip open and a cunning tongue sneaks out, meeting Gon’s and running down his own tongue. Hisoka presses in closer, harder, forcing their mouths together and taking what he wants. 

It’s rough, and strange, but his body likes it. Likes the sensation of Hisoka’s wet tongue in his mouth, of their lips pressed together so hard he can feel them bruising. Hisoka’s nen flickers hungrily and he moans, fingers digging into Gon’s hair. 

And Gon likes it too. Likes the electric feeling of Hisoka’s nen against his, likes the rush of danger meeting the pressing ache of desire. Likes the feel of Hisoka’s nails scraping against his scalp and the magician’s teeth just barely sheathed by his lips. This is the way wild animals display lust – not affection, not longing, but need. All teeth and claws and blunted pressure. 

And then the kiss is over and Hisoka is pulling away. Gon is panting, wide-eyed; Hisoka is grinning. “I see you’ve learned more than I expected since I saw you,” he says. 

“Hisoka…”

“I wonder what you will have learned by the next time.”

Gon swallows. “I’ll be ready. Next time. Really. For whatever you want.”

Hisoka’s eyes curve in pleasure. “ _Whatever_ I want? Oh Gon. You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”

His heart is throbbing, a low hunger curling low in his gut. “I’m not. I’ll be ready,” he repeats. 

“Mm. I can see I have much to look forward to.” He reaches out and runs his thumb over Gon’s swollen lips. “You should go now. Before I can’t help but take what I want.”

Gon can read the thirst for violence in Hisoka’s aura, can feel the hunger and the impatience. As curious as he is about the twisting ache the magician’s kiss brought him, he’s not ready for more right now. 

“Okay. Then I’ll see you some other time,” he says. He stands and leaps backwards, wings bearing him away. 

He circles above the forest once, eyes on Hisoka’s blood-red wings, and then he’s soaring off into the sky. 

The world has just opened up in front of him once more. 

END

**Author's Note:**

> 羽 = ba/hane = wing/feather
> 
> Maybe there will be a sequel to this. Not sure...


End file.
